Show Me Love
by Kanoi-chan
Summary: A collection of stories about Elizabeta Héderváry and Gilbert Beilschmidt ranging in length, topic, and rating. "She couldn't breathe. Her lungs burned. La petite mort."
1. Of Stale Air and Fresh Lies

So I'm trying to get back into the writing thing, and decided "Hey! Why not pick up Hungary in the fanfic100 challenge over on LJ?" So here we go. First of that batch. Hopefully it's okay. I'm still getting used to her character. Prussia… he's pretty easy to write considering he's a troll, lol. So… here we go!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used in this. The end. I own nothing. Do not sure me. I have nothing to give you except used text books.

Prompt: Air

* * *

She couldn't breath. Her lungs burned. La petite mort. And then she was back to awareness, taking large gulps of stale air like a caught fish returned to water. She shivered as sweat cooled quickly in the dankness of the miserable little room.

"Damn Lizzy! That was awesome!"

Elizabeta glared at the boisterous man who had already rolled off her and was grinning cheekily. She wrinkled her nose in irritation.

"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert laughed at her flippant response.

"Up for another round?" His voice rolled over her, and it felt disgusting and uncomfortable as I mixed with the sticky sweat coating her.

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. "I have to go."

His arms slipped around her waist and his nose pressed uncomfortably against her spine.

"Come on, Lizzy. Stay." She supposed he thought he sounded sexy, inviting, "awesome". She just thought he sounded annoying, so she punched him.

"I said I'm leaving!" And so she stood violently and began to dress. She hated the way her nice clothes felt against the grime she'd collected from the moldy room.

Gilbert didn't say a word the whole time she dressed, but she knew his eyes never left her.

"This will be the last time." Her voice sounded bitter to her ears.

He has the audacity to laugh. "Starting to think that means 'I love you', Lizzy. You say it so damn much."

That completely snapped her out of the trance the drab little room had cast over her. She quickly fled out the door, running back home, back to her husband, stale air still burning in her lungs.


	2. Of Birds and Bad Ideas

So basically, had this written for months now, but am just now getting around to posting it. So much fail on my part. So anyway, this comes from my bit of head canon that says Prussia got Gilbird from Hungary. Also, referring to Hungary as "he" because this takes place when they were children, when Hungary still thought she was a boy.

Prompt: Beginnings

Disclaimer: I do now own Hetalia. That is all. Nothing witty to say here tonight.

* * *

"Stupid Ottobastard," Hungary grumbled as he walked down the well-worn road. "Can't stand that guy."

He stopped and glared at an unsuspecting tree. Letting out a shout of rage, he reeled back, preparing to kick the poor, innocent piece of forestry, when suddenly an adorable little chick popped up right in the path of his foot. Arms flailing, Hungary fell backward so as not to harm the cute little fluff ball.

The young nation stared at the small yellow bird, and it stared right back. Hungary rolled onto his knees, crawling closer, still staring into the wide black eyes of the chick. He felt a flush alighto n his cheeks (how annoyingly girly). The bird was simply too cute.

"Hey," Hungary greeted, smiling softly, happily, at the little bird. "Where did you come from?"

The chick opened its adorable little beak, but instead of some precious "cheep", an obnoxious sound like the cross-breading of a bullhorn and a crow came out. And it wouldn't stop.

Hungary's smile had quickly fallen, but he couldn't help but continue to stare.

"Somehow… You remind me of someone."

!#$%^&*()_+

"Hey, Hungary!" Come to see the awesome me!"

Hungary's eye twitched. He couldn't believe he had sought out this idiot.

"What's that behind your back?" Prussia basically leered at his fellow nation. "You got something for me?"

Hungary flushed (flushed, not blushed), and he thrust his hands out, the small chick in his palms.

"It was so annoying, it reminded me of you!" Hungary shouted, trying his hardest not to be embarrassed.

Prussia stared for a moment before carefully taking the chick in his own hands, looking thoroughly confused. He and the chick stared at each other for a moment before the bird opened its beak to once again release that obnoxious sound that left Hungary cringing. Prussia's face, however, lit up.

"This is so awesome!" he shouted, jabbering to and fawning over his new pet, the chick squawking right back.

Hungary simply felt the sinking feeling of dread. This truly hadn't been his best idea.


	3. Of Gentleman and Ladies Or Not

Another update! This has also been sitting in my notebook for awhile. Anyway, I love the idea of Prussia trying to fit into the high society life the Hungary becomes a part of when her and Austria get together because he misses her. Also know it would never work out. This fic can basically be read as either part of the canon or AU. I didn't have one in particular in mind while writing it.

Prompt: Choices

Disclaimer: Do not own Hetalia.

* * *

Gilbert wasn't jealous; he was far too awesome to be something as completely unawesome as jealous. Gilbert also totally wasn't changing for some girl. He was totally awesome. Therefore, he had no reason to change. This was simply a fun experiment, something to alleviate his boredom. Which is how Gulbert found himself at a stuffy party, in a stuffy tuxedo, acting like a stuffy gentleman (but still so much more awesome than stuffy, old Roderich).

As he stood with a wine glass (so not awesome, but it was gentlemanly, so he's persevere), watching the other guests of the so-called party, he couldn't comprehend how Elizabeta had chosen this life. He scowled. That was another problem. His Lizzy insisting on being called "Elizabeta", like she was one of those skittish, high-society ladies that had been casting him nervous glances all evening, instead of the boisterous tomboy who had spent her childhood playing in mud and wrestling with the boys.

His scowl deepened as he heard the tittering of overly polite ladies. As he looked in the direction of the sound, he was even more annoyed to find Roderich at the center of the group. No way was Roderich funny. And then there was Elizabeta, hanging on his arm and smiling, leaning up to kiss his cheek. It was enough to make anyone want to vomit.

With a sneer, he left the party. This shit was making him sick.

!#$%^&*()_+

When Elizabeta walked outside, she wasn't surprised to see Gilbert leaning against the wall, looking like he was itching for a cigarette, a beer and a good bar fight (she had been surprised, however, when he had shown up at the party earlier in the evening, attempting to look like a real gentleman).

"What are you doing here?" she questioned, hands on her hips. She had considered leaning against the wall with him, but remembered the delicate silk dress she was wearing, and instead continued to stand off to his side.

"I was bored," he responded, expression and voice indicating the party had done nothing to alleviate his boredom.

"I see." In all honesty though, she didn't.

They stood in silence for a few moments, the air cool and quiet. "What are you doing here?"

Elizabeta blinked, taking a moment to comprehend that Gilbert had asked her a question. "What do you mean? It's Roderich's party."

"That's exactly what I mean!" the man shouted, violently pushing himself off the wall. "You don't belong in this lifestyle! You're no damn lady! You're 'Lizzy', not 'Elizabeta'! Who do you think you're fooling?"

Elizabeta's gaze hardened, hands clenching into fists around the skirt of her fine dress. She wanted desperately to punch him, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wished she could summon some tears instead because and proper lady would cry in the face of Gilbert's shouts, not be filled with this all-consuming rage. It was rage, not hurt. Gilbery could never hurt her, not when they were children wrestling in the mud and leaves, and certainly not now that they were adults.

"I love him!" she shouted back, eyes disturbingly dry. "If you can't accept that then just leave!"

They stared at each other for a moment, the air between them crackling with tension, neither moving. Finally, Gilbert turned and walked away. She wanted a gentleman. Obviously, he wasn't one. She didn't need to know how much turning from her broke his heart.

"When you're ready to stop pretending to be someone you're not, let me know." He didn't look back.

Once he was out of view, Elizabeta had to remind herself not to fall to her knees (didn't want to ruin that fine dress) as she burst into tears.

"See, Gilbert? I can too be a lady."


End file.
